


Permanent Marks

by sarahyellow



Series: Flagellate Universe [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Body Modification, Bondage, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Figging, M/M, Punishment, Scarification, Sub Bucky Barnes, Total Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:09:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyellow/pseuds/sarahyellow
Summary: Bucky gets Steve to agree to doing what they do full-time. But part of what goes along with that is punishment when Bucky misbehaves.A glimpse of the guys' relationship, ten months after the end ofFlagellate.





	Permanent Marks

Bucky chews the bite of steak that he has in his mouth. Over-chews it really. He’s been eating slowly, almost forgetting about the food as his mind whirls round with the thing he wants to say to Steve. 

There’s something he wants, something that he didn’t know was a thing that other people did until he read about it on the internet. Now he’s terrified to bring it up to Steve because he’s sure that Steve’ll get all tense and insist that it’s too much like Hydra, like what they did to him. Which is ridiculous of course. Just because Bucky’s been fantasizing about being controlled 24/7 doesn’t mean he’s envisioning anything close to the kind of control Hydra had over him. It’s not the same at all. He just wants Steve to boss him around is all. He wants it more than just when they’re in the playroom. He wants Steve to tell him when to eat and when to go to bed and when to… _god_ , even when to use the bathroom. That part’s kind of embarrassing but it’s definitely part of what he wants, and Bucky’s always been clear in expressing what he wants. And what he wants now, well, he wants Steve telling him what to do. All the time. Preferably in that bossy Dom voice he uses when they’re playing (So he’s got an authority kink. So sue him). 

He’s been obsessing over it long enough, he thinks as he reaches out to take a sip of the wine that they only drink out of habit. He looks across the table at Steve. “Hey Babe?”

Steve looks up and smiles, blue eyes bright and happy. Bucky’s only started calling him that in the past month or so, and they both know that he loves it. “Yeah?” he says.

“I…have something I’ve been wanting to ask you. Something I’ve been thinking about.”

Steve chews his bite of food, sets his fork down. Bucky’s got all of his attention now and it makes him gulp in apprehension. “What is it?” he asks, voice gentle because he’s always gentle with Bucky. Even when he’s not, he is. 

“Um… well…” Bucky’s not used to being this hesitant about asking for things he needs. He’s usually the bolder of the two of them. Usually it’s Steve who needs to be coaxed to express what he wants, what he’s been fantasizing about. Bucky can tell from looking at Steve’s expression that he doesn’t yet know that this is about “bedroom stuff,” as Steve calls it. “I’ve been thinking about how you control me, in the playroom.”

Steve’s eyes widen marginally. Now he’s keyed in. “Okay,” he says. He too, takes a sip of his wine. “What about it?”

Bucky shrugs. “I like it. You know that.”

“Yeah I know.” Steve is smirking and Bucky smirks too.

“Have you...um…”

Steve’s brow furrows. He’s noticed how nervous Bucky is about this. “What is it Buck? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Bucky nods. “Have you ever wanted more?”

“More?”

“Like, have you ever wanted to control me when we’re not… when we’re just doing regular stuff?” Steve still looks confused and Bucky sighs, exasperated. “Outside the playroom,” he clarifies. “Have you ever?”

Steve blinks. He takes another bite of his steak (he cuts the whole damn thing up before eating, which Bucky will never understand). It’s as he’s chewing and then swallowing that he nods a little. “Yeah,” he admits mildly. “You mean like in everyday life? Like when we’re—”

“When we’re doing anything,” Bucky says. “Watching t.v., working out,” he nods meaningfully at the table between them, “eating.”

“Yeah I have.” Steve shrugs. “I’ve bossed you around in the gym before.”

Bucky grins, remembering. “Yeah you did. Steve, I _loved_ that.”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “You did?”

“Mmhm. You were so hot, bossing me around like that. Telling me what to do when it had nothing to do with sex.”

“I see.”

Bucky swallows, takes another (mentally) fortifying sip of his wine. “I want you to control me like that all the time.”

Steve is quiet for a long time, and Bucky starts to panic that this is completely not what Steve wants. “You want to try a 24/7 exchange?” he asks.

Bucky hadn’t known that Steve knew what it was called. That he does know the term gets Bucky all sorts of excited. “Yeah,” he says quickly. “I want you to tell me when to eat and when to sleep and when to use the bathroom and what to wear and—”

Steve laughs and Bucky shuts up. “I get it Buck.”

Bucky bites his lip. “Is that… is it something you’d want?” He doesn’t want to do it if Steve doesn’t like the idea. It wouldn’t be any good for him then. Steve has to want it too.

“I’ve thought about it before,” Steve admits. His eyes are hot when they look at him, full of that dark, sexual interest that Bucky usually only sees in the playroom or, if they’re being vanilla, in their bedroom. 

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

Steve shrugs. “You always blurt out what you want. You didn’t say anything so I just figured it wasn’t a thing for you.”

“It is. It really is.”

Steve grins, but the smile leaves his eyes after a minute and he looks at Bucky seriously. _Here it comes_ , Bucky thinks, and he’s not disappointed. “It wouldn’t be too much like what they did?” Steve asks. “Like how Hydra controlled you all the time?”

Bucky huffs. “No. I knew you’d say that.”

“I have to check Buck. You know I do.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. But I promise it’s nothing like that. It won’t trigger me. I _know_ it won’t.” Nothing has triggered him so far. He only mentions the idea of a trigger because he knows that it’s something Steve always worries about, the over protective nut. “I’ll like it.”

Steve shrugs. “I’d get off on it. If you want to try it.”

Bucky is surprised. He stares at Steve, amazed at his nonchalance. Steve is hardly ever nonchalant about kink negotiations. It’s like pulling teeth with him, usually. “Really?” he asks, feeling excited. 

“Yeah. I think it’d be fun.” Steve eyes him seriously, points at him with his fork. “I’d hold you to it Buck. It’d be all the time. And if you didn’t listen I’d...” he cuts off.

“What? You’d what?” 

He shrugs and turns his attention back to his plate, bashful. “I’d punish you. You’d have to follow the rules, same as when we’re playing.”

Bucky feels arousal pool in his gut. “That’s so hot. Steve, that’s exactly what I want.” 

Steve looks back up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So much.”

They agree to start the next day, soon as they wake up.

.oOo. 

Bucky swallows, mouth already dry just from the anticipation of what’s happening.

Steve has gotten so good at this. 

They’ve been doing this for almost a year now; playing. And so much has changed. In a good way. Now it’s all the time. 24/7. A complete power-exchange. It’s been a dream.

Of course back in the old days Bucky had liked training Steve (surreptitiously of course). He’d liked teaching him exactly what to do and how to do it, telling him what he liked, what got him hard and aching. It’d been fun.

But at some point it had changed, and then it was _Steve_ teaching _Bucky_. It has been for a while now. And frankly that’s hot as hell too.

Now with the way they live their life, Bucky is under Steve’s complete control. Steve decides what Bucky does, how he does it and when he does it. Of course Bucky’s allowed to do some things on his own. Powerplay during Avengers missions is completely out of the question, and Steve likes to give Bucky free time every once in a while. But that’s okay because Bucky knows that Steve can just as easily take that free time away, can order him to stop whatever he’s chosen to do with his afternoon and just get on his knees and sit at Steve’s feet until he tells him to move. Steve has all of the control. And then there are times when Bucky does something Steve doesn’t like and Steve has to punish him. _That_ gets Bucky’s guts squirming in the strangest of ways.

Because you see punishments are something that Steve knows how to do with perfect balance. It’s amazing. Somehow he manages to make it just enough about pain and discomfort to genuinely get Bucky crying and begging and actually wanting it to stop. He _punishes_ Bucky, pushes his limits in a way that isn’t about fun. The opposite of fun, really.

And then in the next breath he turns it all around, makes it good and gets Bucky to come even though a second a go he was ready to safeword out. Steve has become a master at punishing him, at giving him what he _needs_ even when it’s not what he _wants_ , and Bucky loves it. _God_ , does he love it.

They’re in the playroom. The whole world’s their playroom now that they do this all the time, but when Bucky’s being punished they always come back here. Steve’s got him rigged from the ceiling, arms over his head and feet planted firmly on the floor where he’s been told not to move them. He’s butt-ass naked, waiting. Dread wells in his gut as he watches Steve over by the other wall, smugly peeling a piece of ginger. 

“Please,” he tries once again, putting every ounce of sincerity into his words that he can. “Steve, _Sir_ , I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened. You were right I—”

“Do I have to gag you?”

Bucky’s lips snap shut. He hates gags and Steve knows it.

And what has Bucky done that’s got Steve so pissed at him? He’s gotten a Brand on the back of his neck—of Steve’s star. Without telling Steve. 

Bucky’s been thinking about body modification for a long time now, the idea of pain and permanence weighing heavy on his mind in a good way. He likes the idea of doing something to hurt himself, something that will stick. The idea of making it about Steve and Steve’s ownership of him, well that’s even sexier. So Bucky’d thrown around the ideas of piercings and tattoos and branding and had finally settled on the branding idea because it’d seemed the most permanent. And so far it is. Bucky’s skin hasn’t healed the wound, hasn’t gone back to being smooth and perfect, and he likes it. Yesterday he let the hot water of the shower beat down on it while he jerked himself off, the sting making him grit his teeth and fist his cock harder. Bucky loves what he’s done to himself. Steve however, doesn’t. He’s furious. Has been furious since Bucky pulled his hair up to show him. He’s got a five-point star branded into the back of his neck like some lewd, proprietary stamp. He’s been fantasizing about Steve holding him down and coming all over it. But that’s hardly the first thing Steve wanted to do when he saw it.

“Do you know why I’m mad?” Steve asks him from across the room. 

Bucky licks his lips. “I did it without your permission.”

“Exactly.” Steve glares at him from over his work with the ginger. “You went and did something to your body without talking to me about it. Who owns your body?”

Bucky winces, knowing the answer to that question like he knows his own name. “You do, _Sir_.”

“You’re not going to call me that. Not tonight. You call me by my name. Understand?”

Bucky feels ashamed. “Yes Steve.”

“Good.” Steve stops peeling the ginger, having finally gotten it into the sort of shape he needs. The sight of it makes Bucky shiver, and not in a good way. “What you did to yourself?” Steve says, voice like steel. “That was a betrayal. Of what we do together.”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s voice is small because he’s genuinely ashamed. They may be in the playroom right now but this isn’t play. This is the farthest thing from it, actually. Bucky realizes that he’s fucked up in monumental fashion. 

“That’s should’ve been a choice we made together Buck,” Steve scolds, coming over to stand in front of him. He reaches out with one hand and cups Bucky’s jaw. Bucky presses his face into it, apologetic. Steve’s hand smells like ginger. “This body is mine,” he tells him, voice hard. “I decide what happens to it.”

“Yes Steve,” Bucky breathes. “I’m sorry.” Oh god, he really, really is. “I was stupid.”

“Selfish,” Steve corrects. “Why didn’t you bring it up with me? Huh?” He knows the answer, damn him, but he’s going to make Bucky say it.

“I knew you wouldn’t like the idea,” he admits quietly. “I was worried you’d say no.”

“But you went and did it anyway.”

Bucky looks down at his toes, ashamed. “Yeah.”

Steve holds the ginger plug up in front of Bucky’s face. “Kiss it.” Bucky’s guts churn in dread and embarrassment, but he does as told. Steve makes a noise of approval in his throat. “Good. Now open up.”

Bucky hates it but he opens his mouth. He sucks on the ginger to get it wet, knows that the overpowering taste of it is the least unpleasant thing he’s going to experience tonight. Suddenly he wants to plead all over again, but he can’t because his mouth is full. 

“Good boy,” Steve tells him as he sucks. “You keep this up and you might get to come when this is all over.”

Normally the promise of an orgasm is enough to push the dread of whatever punishment Steve can cook up out of his mind. But not now, not tonight. Steve is pissed. Bucky did something permanent to himself and he’s not going to get off so easy as he usually does. He knows it from the look on Steve’s face. That look makes him feel small.

Steve seems to deem that he’s gotten the plug wet enough, because he removes it from Bucky’s mouth. Bucky wants to ask for a drink of water to wash the taste away, but he knows better than that. He keeps his mouth shut. Steve walks behind him. He slaps the back of one thigh. “Spread your legs.”

Bucky whimpers. “Steve…”

“You are _not_ going to want me to ask again,” Steve growls, and Bucky’s legs part for him. “Better.”

Bucky feels the plug touch his hole and he whimpers again. Steve applies pressure and the plug slips in with little fanfare. “Oh!” Bucky can’t feel anything yet, he’s just exclaimed at the feeling of being penetrated so suddenly. It’s no bigger than a finger though, so it doesn’t hurt. Not yet anyway.

“We’ll just let that sit, yeah?” Steve says, a mockery of a question. Bucky knows not to answer. Steve walks back around in front of him and just stands there, watching his face. It’s incredibly intimidating and Bucky has to fight to keep his gaze on Steve’s and not look back down at his feet. He knows that Steve want to look into his eyes as the ginger starts to burn.

And it does. A minute ticks by, and then two, and soon Bucky is cringing from the slowly increasing burn of what Steve’s put in his ass. Some muscle in Bucky’s face twitches, and then after a few long minutes more he has to start clenching his teeth. _Fuck_ , he’d forgotten how awful this was. 

Figging is only something Steve does to him when he’s feeling exceptionally mean. Bucky _hates_ it, which regrettably makes it the perfect punishment. It burns against the tender flesh of his asshole, making him shiver in pain and breathe harshly through his nose. “How’s that feel?” Steve asks him, the smug jerk.

“Ugh. Awful,” Bucky grits. He feels flush. Sweat is starting to prick at his hairline. “Steve, m’sorry.”

Steve tuts. “Oh, I know you are babe.” He reaches up and threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair, uses that grip to tug gently at his scalp. Bucky moans brokenly. “And you’re going to be more sorry by the time this is over.”

Bucky can’t help it; a tear slips from his eye. 

.oOo.

Steve gets him into bed after it’s all done. Bucky’s still shivering and shaking and he’s sure his face is a hot mess of tears. His asshole is burning from the ginger but his body feels boneless because Steve had indeed let him come at the end. He’d wrapped his fist around Bucky and wrung an orgasm out of him with ruthless efficiency. Handjobs are something Bucky’s been working on accepting these past few months. These days he can usually accept that sort of pleasure from Steve. He’d been able to accept it tonight, even though by that point he’d been verbally begging Steve to stop touching him at all. He hadn’t safeworded though, and that was the important point. The only point that mattered, really. Steve’d gotten him damn close though. 

The bed dips and Bucky sighs as he feels Steve place one of those large, warm hands on his back. He trails his fingers up and down the scarring on Bucky’s left shoulder blade. It’s one of the most absent-minded ways that he touches Bucky, and Bucky secretly loves it. “You cold?” Steve asks him gently. “Want a blanket?”

Bucky makes some attempt to shake his head and just has to hope that Steve can interpret the motion. “Ugn.”

Steve chuckles. He shifts on the bed and Bucky can hear the cap flip on something unseen. Steve’s quiet for a moment and then he’s bringing one hand to Bucky’s rear, the other holding him down at the base of his spine. Bucky startles at the cold feeling of Steve’s fingers at his hole. “Shhh,” he shushes him. “Hold still.”

“Mmph.” It’s not unusual for Bucky to be reduced to grunts and other such unintelligible sounds when they’re done playing. What Steve’s just finished doing to him this past hour or so wasn’t playing, per se, but it still has him grunting his dumb animal sounds into the fold of his arms. Steve’s fingers rub gently over the tender flesh of his hole, smearing soothing ointment. “Guh.”

“Feel good?” Steve asks him.

“Wouldn’t need it if you hadn’t stuck that fucking—”

Steve smacks him on the ass, just once. Not hard enough to count as anything. “Shut up will you? You deserved that, and you took it, and I’m proud of you.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything but inside he’s glowing a bit of praise from Steve. “Thank you.”

“Mm. You’re welcome.” Steve’s fingers trail over his hole again, further spreading whatever cool balm he’s applied. He climbs further up the bed and straddles Bucky’s calves, then Bucky feels him using both hands to spread him. Bucky feels his face burn as he realizes that Steve is staring at him, _there_. 

“ _Steve_ ,”

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles, but unlike when he was being punished, this time it’s fond. “God Buck you should see yourself. Your asshole’s all red and puffy. You look like I fucked you for hours.”

“You didn’t fuck me at all.” Another slap to his ass. Bucky snorts and shuts up. Steve’s big hands knead the meat of his ass cheeks and it makes him sigh in pleasure. “Mm. Can I have a massage?” he asks, pretty sure that he’ll get it. Steve’s always been good about granting his requests during aftercare. 

“Course Buck.” Steve moves off him, goes over to get the oil that he uses for that. It’s almond and bergamot scented and when he comes back and straddles Bucky’s lower back, the drizzle he lets loose over his shoulders smells like a cup of tea. Bucky sighs again. _This is going to feel good_. Steve starts rubbing the oil into the skin of Bucky’s back, rolling his knuckles into the muscles at the tops of his shoulders and the base of his neck. 

“ _God_ , yes,” Bucky moans. It feels as good as the handjob Steve just gave him. Maybe better, since he’s not overwhelmed from being tortured too. This is all pleasure. 

Steve chuckles lowly as his hands continue to work all of the sore spots from Bucky’s upper back. “Feel good?”

“You know it does,” Bucky murmurs. “You’re so damned good at this, Stevie.”

Steve hums. “It’s the least I can do for you after I’ve had you restrained in one of the awkward positions I get you in.” 

He’s right, of course. Steve’s favorite way to have him is rigged from the ceiling in the center of the room. He says he likes it cause he can get to every part of Bucky’s body without trouble. And hey, with the exception of the soles of his feet (something Bucky’s _not_ complaining about), he’s right. The ceiling restraints are fairly standard for their play, but the two of them have been known to get creative. Bucky’s strained a few muscles in the name of exploration. “Worth it,” he says, the words dissolving into another groan as Steve finds a particularly sore spot. He focuses on that for a while, knuckles digging in to get the knot of muscle to unclench. “ _God_ Steve. _Fuuuck_.”

“Jeeze,” Steve chides. “You sound like you just came.”

“Maybe I did,” Bucky huffs, and then, “…M’sorry Steve.” Steve’s hands pause on his back. “For what I did. I should’ve talked with you about it.”

Steve shifts over him and it takes Bucky a second to realize that the touch he feels between his shoulder blades is Steve’s forehead. Steve hisses him there, more a sound than anything he can feel. It’s reverent and it makes Bucky relax because he knows it means he’s forgiven. “You can tell me _anything_ , Buck,” he says, voice a deep rumble that sinks pleasantly into Bucky’s skin. “That’s what hurt the most; you thinking you couldn’t talk to me about something.” Bucky doesn’t know what he can say to that. He doesn’t say anything. Steve sits back up and continues the massage with about half the effort as before. “I want you to explain it to me,” he says. “Why did you want to do it? Was it about hurting yourself?”

Bucky frowns into his folded arms. “No. Not entirely. I mean you know I like pain…”

Steve snorts. “God, do I ever.” He sounds ruefully amused. 

“It was more than that though.” Bucky thinks hard before saying, “It was kind of… a proprietary thing. Something I could do to my body to prove to myself it was mine. Something outrageous." He shrugs his shoulders. “But I wanted it to be about you too, if that makes sense.”

“About me?” Steve asks. Bucky can practically hear the raised eyebrow behind it.

“I know I know,” he says. “I didn’t tell you and I should’ve. But… I mean you get why the star, right?”

Steve is quiet. His hand comes up and swipes Bucky’s hair away from his neck, baring the brand that’s still there—mostly healed now but not disappeared from his skin. He traces it with his thumb, making it shiny with the oil. “It’s supposed to be mine, right?” he asks quietly. “Like the star on my uniform?”

Bucky smirks where Steve can’t see. “It’s about the closest thing you have to a logo.” Steve makes a noise of agreement, and that pleases Bucky. He’s still trailing his fingers over it, up and down each line that makes up the star. “I wanted you on my skin,” he says quietly, seriously. It’s a succinct way of putting it, more succinct than Bucky’s thought about it in his head, and it surprises him.

Steve bends down, kisses the Star slowly and gently. “I don’t dislike it,” he tells him. “Don’t want you to think that’s why I was mad.”

“You were mad because I went behind your back and did something to my body without permission.”

“Something permanent,” Steve agrees. 

Of course Bucky knows now _exactly_ what his infraction was. Steve only made him repeat it aloud about a bajillion times while he was punishing him. “…I’ll get rid of it,” he offers, not liking the idea but meaning it. “If you want me to.”

“Think it’s a little late for that.”

Bucky shrugs. “I can have them brand over it. Just kind of chew up the skin into a—”

“Bucky, _no_.” Steve’s voice is heavy with disapproval.

“But if you don’t _like_ it,” he argues.

“I do. I do like it,” Steve tells him. “I don’t want you to get rid of it. Just…” He pauses thoughtfully, fingers still tracing the scar. “Maybe we can add to it, huh?”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe some ink. You think that would take?”

Bucky can practically _feel_ Steve’s artist’s gaze evaluating the back of his neck, imagining. “Yes,” he says immediately, even though he’s got no idea whether or not his body will push out tattoo ink. “Let’s try it. Can we? What’ll I get? Are you gonna design something?” _Can you come all over it?_ he wants to add but doesn’t get to.

Steve laughs and lays his body out flat atop him. The bulk of his weight feels wonderful as it presses him into the bed. Bucky can feel the rumble of Steve’s voice against his back as he muses, “Hmm, what would I have you get? Maybe… ‘property of Steve Rogers’.” 

Bucky moans. His _dick_ twitches. “Seriously?”

“Mmhm. Maybe that’ll get the message through this thick skull of yours.” He nuggies Bucky’s scalp but it’s far from enthusiastic.

“And that message would be?”

Steve’s hand slips around the front of Bucky’s neck, holding him firm. Bucky moans again as Steve leans in to breathe hotly against his ear, “That this body”—at _'this body'_ he thrusts his hips against Bucky’s ass—“belongs to me.”

God, Bucky thinks he could get hard again. “Yes,” he hisses, enjoying Steve’s hold on his throat. “Yes yes, I want to. Can we?”

Steve chuckles and kisses him over the star again. He sits up and resumes the massage he’d been giving earlier, though Bucky could hardly care about that at this point. He just wants to run straight to a tattoo parlor and feel a needle digging into him. _Property of Steve Rogers_. Jesus Christ.

“ _Steve_ ,” he urges, trying to crane his neck to look back at him. “When can we go?”

Steve just chuckles and pushes his head back down. “We’ll see,” he says in that god-damned perfect authoritarian voice he has. “I think we should use it as a reward. I want you to earn it. You’ll have to be on your very best behavior for a while.”

Bucky groans in complaint, but inside he’s already firming up his resolve to do exactly that. He can’t _wait_ to get that fucking tattoo. And this time, he’ll have Steve right there with him when it happens.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Permanent Marks [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17020359) by [sarahyellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyellow/pseuds/sarahyellow)




End file.
